


At Wit's End

by DatSonyat



Series: Chasing the Horizon [1]
Category: Made in Abyss (Anime)
Genre: Attempted Seduction, Bondrewd Headcanons, Developing Relationship, Emotional Manipulation, Flirting, Fluff and Humor, Grey-Ace!Bondrewd, Gueira is Headcanon-heavy/movie/manga mix, Hijinks & Shenanigans, I Wrote This Instead of Sleeping, M/M, Mostly Rated for Langauge, Mother-Hen!Gueira, Pet Names, Pining, Praise Kink, Protectiveness, Scent Kink, Self-Indulgent, Swearing, Symbolism, Tail Kink, Umbra Hands Headcanons, Worship, Zoaholic Headcanons, all kinks are only mentioned or alluded to, bondrewd has a moment, gueira puts up with no disrespect
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-26
Updated: 2021-01-26
Packaged: 2021-03-12 09:28:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,299
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29008338
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DatSonyat/pseuds/DatSonyat
Summary: Work in Ido Front is rarely fun and games, Gueira’s come to learn, splitting his duties between research and minding Bondrewd. However..."Should I offer to feed you, sir?"Sometimes it really is just "fun" and games, and ahellofa lotof grand stupidity. At his expense, quite naturally.
Relationships: Gueira/Bondrewd (Made in Abyss)
Series: Chasing the Horizon [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2128065
Comments: 9
Kudos: 20





	At Wit's End

**Author's Note:**

> Not gonna lie, I've been having so much trouble with all my GueBo fics and this is some terrible humour to help deal with it. This is far from my best writing with how awful my health has been (what has delayed every fic and update 😒). Part of this was legit pulled from some seriously hardcore porn I never finished. 😂 Now it's Ido Front hijinks, Gueira kinkshaming himself, and my desire to write a grey ace Bondrewd who goes full ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°) every full moon or something. Also wanted to try my hand at a displeased Bon as Tsucc’s rule is he never gets openly angry with his subordinates.
> 
> Removed the crack tag. It's Horizon-verse canon. _shrug_

Gueira fails to notice something amiss, at first. They've been working through the last batch of results all day. Hours passing by without thought is hardly uncommon. 

It's not much of anything, really. His arm snaps up in a vicious motion, gesturing for Isau to hand him the next bundle of reports—idiot's about to drop a set of petri dishes, how he qualified for a White Coat Gueira will never understand—when his eyes settle on Bondrewd for a moment. 

He's still dictating and giving orders, perfectly calm and organized, keeping their operation running like a well-oiled machine... but he's been sitting in the same spot all day, Gueira realizes belatedly. His tail sways back and forth in slow waves, the tip of it stabbing the air in his desired direction as he issues another order. His thighs flex with his tail and Gueira forces his gaze elsewhere, tamping down the unprofessional rush of arousal warming his blood. Hell, he's got a problem, is a pervert, or both. 

A flicker of luminous violet and gleaming metallic plates edge into the corner of his vision, and he bites his lip, blowing out a sharp exhale. 

Yeah, he's fairly certain it's both. 

Fresh guilt creeps into Gueira's busy mind. He's supposed to look out for his boss' well-being and he's just as caught up in their work as Bondrewd—never mind ignoring his awkward “not here, not like this” semi. 

Damnit, he'll flag down the next free Umbra Hand and have them bring a Type-4 and something to drink. His dry tongue sticks to the roof of his mouth as he contemplates the variable efficiency of the corresponding group of test subjects, stomach groaning a complaint. 

Ugh, have any of them touched food or drink since morning? 

Gueira makes a note for the whole room.

* * *

The fact that he has to intimidate grown men into eating and drinking would be laughable if it wasn't so goddamn frustrating. 

"You, yes, _you_ , I see you. Eat." Gueira looms over Hideki, a deep scowl etched into his face and radiating through his thick mask. The blue line of it glows brighter, colour darkening from azure to cobalt as he crosses his arms, glaring directly downwards. 

Sometimes he doesn't curse his height in the Abyss. 

"Fine, fine, Sir Uptight. Hey, boss, can you get him t—" Gueira shoves the ration bar into the stubborn fucker's mouth, gripping him by the back of the neck. He'd hoist the little shit by his collar if he wasn't sure it'd choke out the disrespectful moron. 

"Inappropriate," he says lowly, on the cusp of a rumbling growl he knows terrifies the newer Umbra Hands. Gueira wants to ask if the fool cares to repeat himself, but...

"My, is this display indeed necessary?" Bondrewd tilts his head in their direction, unwilling to look away from his work. His tail coils once and flicks in annoyance, mirroring his placid, a touch too pleasant tone. "Come now—the both of you."

The lab's volume lowers several levels as the lot of them stare intently at their work, pointedly keeping their eyes off of the source of Bondrewd's rarely seen displeasure. 

"My apologies, Lord. The impropriety was mine as well." Gueira slips back into an old habit, tone icier than the frost columns lining Ido Front, and drops Hideki without ceremony or care. He scrambles away from Gueira and darts back to his own bench, coughing up his lungs all the while. 

He'll have learned his lesson for now. The senior Umbra Hands might get away with addressing Bondrewd with such casual terms and language, but the rookies? 

Over his dead body.

"Although..." Gueira turns to his master, lingering on the exaggerated word the way his eyes linger on Bondrewd. He's beside Bondrewd in less than three strides, taking in the simultaneous neatness and utter chaos that is his current desk. His palm meets its cold steel, fingers rigid, eyeing an almost empty mug. 

Wonder of wonders, he's actually gotten the almighty Lord of Dawn to drink on schedule today, yet his ration bar remains untouched. Gueira bites back a sigh and leans down—hell, he's playing with fire enough to rival the sun and his quickening pulse confirms it—his mass engulfing Bondrewd in shadow, bending at the waist until their masks are level, almost parallel. He's all too aware of the intimacy and his fellow Umbra Hands gawking at his nerve. 

"Should I offer to feed you, sir?" Gueira quips in a near purr that's just as much snark as it is dark, suppressing the familiar urge to run his hand along the metallic spine running underneath Bondrewd's coat.

He can practically hear a pin drop, can hear the deafening silence that is his comrades' horror at his sheer boldness.

But it works.

Bondrewd's shoulders hitch and drop, and he finally spares him a glance, tail resuming its back and forth, though the tip continues to flick in irritation, very much like the cat Gueira used to own as a child. The violet light of his mask demands attention and Gueira's nothing but a dutiful servant, if not an insolent one speaking out of turn. 

"Ah, Gueira, or is it Gueira the Cocky once more?" Bondrewd begins, and it's close to affectionate, but damn, the thread of coolness that weaves itself through his regal baritone may as well be punishment enough, "I believe you apologized moments ago, yes?"

A lone finger is all Bondrewd needs to utterly halt him. His free hand cups Gueira's mask, and he follows the curve of it, dipping into the concave circle where the shining line of his mask blooms into a smaller ring the colour of the sky—his identity, his life, his very soul, all eagerly given and owned by his Lord.

Gueira fights the reflex to swallow in the face of an apex predator, in the face of disappointing the one he worships and idolizes above all else. Of a title given in another lifetime, perhaps shameful. "Yes, sir, I believe I did." He shifts downwards and their masks are parallel, close enough to catch the spice and sweetness of Zoaholic's scent clinging to his master like a second invisible, wholly alluring skin. A shiver slides down his spine, blood running hot, but Gueira's far from deterred. 

"However," he continues, timbre of his voice deepening as he presses in, other hand dwarfing Bondrewd's stilled, relaxed one, pen no longer flying across paper with a method to its madness, "you gave explicit orders last week: that we are not to allow any of your favoured bodies to 'fall into disrepair.'" Gueira’s forced to drop into something of a kneel, bringing their masks closer together—something the nuisances of Ido Front will certainly gossip about—to whisper a worried, respectful, "I'd rather your disfavour than your health, sir."

He cares little for Zoaholic's body swapping in light of witnessing Bondrewd work himself to and often past exhaustion through nonexistent blood sugar levels and moderate dehydration more than once over the past few years, if he's particularly obsessed with the subject at hand.

The previous week had simply been a breaking point. 

His laughter's so light and quiet Gueira nearly misses it. Bondrewd neatly tucks his pen to the side of his work, twining the tips of his fingers around Gueira's for a fraction of a second—for fuck's sake, he's no better than a schoolboy with a crush with the way his heart skips a beat like some line out of the shitty romance novels he stuffs into the vent in his room—before he motions for him to ease off. Gueira pulls back, but only just so, determined to ensure Bondrewd at least _touches_ the ration bar. He'll accept whatever discipline so long as he eats the awful thing verging on becoming his nemesis. 

"How foolish—ha, no, 'single-minded' is far more apt—of me to forget. You're correct, of course," Bondrewd acknowledges in an equally soft murmur, airy chuckles echoing from within his helmet, amused with the both of them, "your concern regarding my well-being is always appreciated. You have my gratitude, Gueira. Thank you." He pushes back in his chair and Gueira moves with him, refusing to collapse under the intense wash of relief flooding through him mentally or physically. Neither his master nor Umbra Hands need see such weakness—and they can broadcast envy all they want, he's still the one with the balls to stare down Bondrewd like that. 

_My sweet shadow_ caresses Gueira's mind like brushings of rich velvet as smooth and silken as his tongue in playful reminder, the girthy length of his tail winding about his ankle in a teasing manner, and he's very certain _that_ is both his punishment and reward. No part of him is turning around when he's sporting a blush so vivid it'd be best off replacing the blue of his mask... amongst other things. Yep, a real problem and an atrocious pervert. Seriously, again?

What _doesn't_ Bondrewd the Novel take advantage of when he can? 

_Please, just eat, Lord,_ he sends back through Zoaholic in a haze of embarrassment, praying he's not so flustered as to let the others in on their back and forth. ...and he's gone and called Bondrewd Lord. Again.

So much for maintaining but a fragment of dignity. 

_My, my, I wonder, when did you come to dislike 'Gueira the Cocky?'_ The bottom of Bondrewd's mask unlatches and clicks open, revealing lips far too pale for any human against teeth of the same colour, stretched into a pleased grin. He plucks the ration bar between his index finger and thumb, giving it a slight shake. There's a flash of pink tongue that's all too deliberate for Gueira, tail slithering back to its owner in streams of distracting purple light. 

"I seem to recall an offer." Those pretty lips purse and Bondrewd rests his chin in his palm, elbow braced against his desk. His gloved pinkie finger catches the barest edge of his Eternal Fortune-white bottom lip, the sultry tug so subtle the others either fail to notice or make the executive decision to pretend to miss. "An offer of a particular nature...?" Bondrewd lets the question hang, leaving the rest of his Umbra Hands to finish it, their conclusion obvious—when his is anything but. 

The tension in the lab breaks, with half the sons of bitches snickering at their tall friend’s expense, most notably Bido and Isau, the assholes. 

Fine, let them have their fun, Gueira's not one to take it like he used to a year ago and not done yet, oh, no, _no._ There's only one solution. 

He stumbles back in faux-shock, careful not to, well, expose himself to the rest of them, clutching at his Black Whistle the way the rich ladies of the surface do their gaudy jewelry. "I'm not—in public, Sir?" He switches to an overtly submissive tone without effort, cackling inwardly and most definitely enjoying the way the lot of them fucking choke in one way or another. "S-so lewd, Lord—"

"Point taken," Bondrewd says, cutting him off—Gueira truly can't tell if his breathlessness is masking more laughter or something else entirely—and crams the ration bar down his gullet with little thought or care, heedless of the taste like he forever will be.

If there's a singular thing the Lord of Dawn, beautiful, elegant, and otherworldly as he is, possesses no grace over, it's eating those horrid chunks of wall. 

Mission accomplished for better or for worse. Back to business, like a lamp switch. 

"I live to serve, sir." Gueira dips his head in a bow, curtains of his mask fluttering, lacing each word with a reverence reserved for Bondrewd and no other, discarding his remaining humour. He _does_ live to serve. His singular purpose is to serve, and Gueira knows beyond a shadow of a doubt he'll serve up his soul should— _when_ —the time comes.

_I know you do, and I know you will, sweet shadow. I have not forgotten our vow._

Gueira can't help but smile, be it wistful or no, basking in the warmth flowing and ebbing in his chest like the tide of the vast ocean he crossed to enter the Abyss, ignorant to the truth he would find there. To the end of his old life, to meet Bondrewd. 

To meet his destiny, to whatever end the dawn leads him. 

_Be that as it may—make no mistake, I value your devotion dearly—but do expect a... ‘reprimand’ for that precious act of yours,_ Bondrewd returns his earlier purr through their link, having indulged them all and himself enough for one day. 

He doesn’t specify which act. Gueira brows knit together, lips quirking further. Looking for an excuse, huh? Two can play that game. 

_As you will, sir,_ Gueira's smile widens, deviously so, because really? He, who often tends to his boss' every need, keeps track of all his habits, and cycles of behaviour, is far, _far_ from surprised to hear it.

In fact, he's been expecting it. He cracks at last and laughs beneath his breath, the very aura about him evil. 

_Oh, my, I see now._ Bondrewd's delighted chuckles echo clearly in his ears, heard solely by him, but his tone suggests something... _different_. _How wonderful, m_ _y clever shadow,_ and everything's a little more Auto. Just a little, for now.

_I live to please, Sir,_ he fires back, grinning with a wickedness as he seats himself back at his workstation, posture slightly too refined to anyone paying closer attention. If he fades to black, he won’t be terribly surprised. 

_You do,_ and Gueira shudders at the praise, bathing himself in Bondrewd’s sacred words. _You will._

_You always do._

**Author's Note:**

> – The idea that the idofront squad frequently troll each other is always gonna be premium material to me. I dunno why, it's just absolutely hilarious for whatever reason.  
> – Gueira is mostly headcanons of mine combined with what yorokobe_shoujo/Roxainn helped me build my version to. 💖 My biggest credit always goes to her!  
> – If Gueira is Team Mom, then Bon's mug already says Best Dad at least a year before Prushka 😂  
> – Much like Riko, Guiera too has tasted a wall for very different reasons.  
> – Yup, Bido is the tailed body Umbra Hand, yet Bon has a tail here. _Creepy AU plot a-a-activate, ohoho yeah_ 👀👀  
> – Oya doesn't translate, so I try to get them across through his various vocal tics. 
> 
> There's more snippets from unfinished pieces posted on my tumblr that'd give this more context, but it is a general blog, so shitposting and personal (medical) posts galore. Up to you if you want to search the "my writing" tag under the same username for some NSFW and SFW Chasing the Horizon content. Massive ramble over!


End file.
